


Aftermath

by Ordinarily



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Crushes, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jonah's had it, Spoilers, thoughts on the kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordinarily/pseuds/Ordinarily
Summary: "I like you. Is that what you want to hear? I have a crush on you, Jonah. An immature, little, school-girl crush."





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I'M DYING WAITING FOR SEASON 3
> 
> (also this is kind of a glazed over version of the show, with things that would probably never actually happen, but just let me have this okay)

He thought she'd mention the kiss, he really did.

 

Of course the thank-you was more than appreciated, but he was really hoping for a more in-depth conversation, especially when his lips still tingled from the searing touch of hers. 

Never mind the whole life or death thing, Jonah was still immersed in the waters that were Amy, sinking deeper and deeper and frankly, he was running out of air. 

And not that he could blame her for leaving part-way through their conversation—not when her family poured into the mix—but he couldn't help the sharp sting in his chest. Maybe, just maybe it didn't mean as much to her as it did to him. 

So he figured he'd just have to forget about it; bury it in the back of his mind in a box locked and wrapped in chains with no key in sight.

Except he couldn't. Not when it felt like her lips were imprinted on his and his hands fit perfectly around her cheeks. He'd fallen for Amy, and the episode unfolded at Cheyenne's wedding further proved it. He could blame it on the alcohol all he wanted, but nothing would debunk his words (confession). 

Everything he'd said was true. Every single word. And he'd hoped she knew that now. 

But watching her with her arms around Emma and Adam made him think otherwise.

 

_He wanted to kiss her again._  

 

* * *

 

He woke up the next morning with a raging hangover and throbbing heart. He felt spent, numb, overwhelmed... hurt. 

All over a tiny kiss. 

And a lot of booze. 

He was an adult. He should be able to take this like an adult. Amy surely wasn't at home, moping in bed over _him_.

_I need to get laid,_ he thought. 

Last night would've been the prime time to do so in fact, except he didn't feel all that comfortable with Marcus and Matteo. 

Especially Marcus.

_God, what a pig._

He rolled over, groaning and picked up his phone. 

11:26 A.M. 

His heart jumped for a moment, thinking he was late for work, before he realized there _was_ _no_ work. 

He scrolled through notifications and found Amy's contact with an iMessage followed suit. A few, actually. 

 

**Jonah.**

**You good?**

**Wanted to talk... didn't feel like I got to thank you properly.**

And then, a few hours later. 

**Jonah?**

 

**Fuck off Amy,** he wanted to type. 

Instead, he assured she didn't need to thank him, and asked if she was doing alright.

There was a knock at his door and he groaned even louder, stumbling out of bed and to his front door. He didn't think much of it, as he swung the door open in nothing but a pair of grey boxer briefs and an extreme case of bedhead. 

On the other hand, once he realized the woman standing on the opposite side of the threshold was Amy, he felt acutely self-aware. She was carrying a Dunkin’ Donuts box along with her car keys and her purse strapped over a shoulder. 

"Jonah." 

It came out how he'd imagined she'd said it in the text.

"Amy," he replied idly. "You brought me donuts?"

"They're muffins." 

"Ah."

"You seem disappointed."

"Nah. I just kind of wanted a doughnut."

"It's not even noon, yet. And you look like you just woke up."

"Because I did."

"Busy night last night?" she asked, pushing passed him into the apartment.

He shrugged, closing the door behind her as she placed the box on his kitchen island. "Not really."

"Mhm."

"I'm going to go put on some pants," he muttered, shuffling back toward his bedroom. 

 

Upon his return, the box was open and a half-eaten muffin sat on a napkin in front of her. He propped himself up on the stool beside her, and reached for a carrot one after having started his coffee machine. 

They ate in silence for a little bit, before he stood up to pour two cups. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah. But you don't seem like you're in the best state right now. We can just do it another time."

"I have massive migraine, I'm ninety percent sure I might throw up in the next five minutes or so, and my heart feels like it was shattered to pieces. How's your morning going, Amy?

He hadn't meant to be so blunt ( ~~and bitter~~ ), but it'd stumbled out of his sluggish form nonetheless. Quite frankly, he didn't have the energy to dance around things or walk on eggshells as of now.

Amy looked taken aback, coffee dribbling back into her cup. "I'm sorry... I don't mean to keep doing this to you, really."

Jonah sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was tangled. 

"You know how I feel about you," he said. "The ball's in your court."

"I... things are complicated right now."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that."

"It's the truth."

"You're predictable."

He was doing it again. A flash of hurt crossed her features before she went back to giving him that genuine stare. He was pushing too hard again. He'd say something too forward if he didn't get a hold of himself.

Maybe he'd call her sexy again, at what might be the most inappropriate time. 

 

_God dammit, Jonah._  

 

"I like you. Is that what you want to hear? I have a crush on you, Jonah. An immature, little, school-girl crush. You're annoying and you wear plaid too often and you're like the vocalized encyclopedia nobody asked for but for some godforsaken reason I'm attracted to it. You're always—by some miracle—there and even if you don't help a situation—which is most of the time—at least you try. Fucking hell. I'm _married_ , Jonah! And my whole life is falling to shit because of you." 

He smirked. And then a genuine smile spread over his lips—dimples and all—and he blew hot air out his nose. 

 

She liked him. _She liked him!_

He was ruining her life just like she was ruining his. 

"Stop it! Stop that!" she said, exasperated. "That bashful little smile you do! Stop!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice taking on a light tone for the first time since yesterday. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bonus:

 

"So... Are we out of a job?" he asked warily. 

"I honestly have no idea. They'll probably just relocate us."

"That's gonna be weird. Not having Glenn or Matteo or Garett or Dina around."

"Well maybe we'll get relocated with one of them."

"I hope I end up with you." ( _In more ways than one,_ he added, but only to himself.)

And there he was. Being all cheesy and Jonah. 

"The day I walk into Cloud 9 without hearing a useless fact of yours is the day I walk right back out," she added.

"Aw. Really?"

"No. I need this job." 

His chortle was wheezy.

"We can still see each other outside of work... I mean, if you want." Even to her, Amy sounded lame. 

But dear ol' Jonah never did seem to mind.

"What are you doing Saturday?"

 

And that, ladies and gents, is how the argument over who made the first move between Amy and Jonah originated.


End file.
